We were always taught, ever since I can remember. Taught how to work, how to live, what to think. It was suffocating, but there was nothing any of us could do about it. For we live in the twelve defeated districts, defeated by the Capitol. And no matter what we do or think, we cannot defy them. Or so the Capitol believes, yet every year we, the children of the districts from ages twelve to eighteen, still have to have our names drawn to be murdered by the Capitol for their entertainment. To be pitted against twenty-three others for only one chance to live. Every year this happens, and today is my fourth reaping. My fourth reaping for the Hunger Games. Reapings are what we call the selection, the time when the emissaries of death come to take us away to the Capitol for the games. We have no idea who will be chosen, but still all the families with children in the prime age range to be chosen spend as much time with them as possible, fearing the worst for them. I spend my possible last day wiggling my toes in the water of the sea, my feet hanging of the dock at the harbor. My auburn hair draped down the sides of my face as I watched the swirls of bubbles I might not see again, unnaturally long legs powering the mini current my ice blue eyes were watching. The moist wood grain my fingers rubbed against was soothing and always smelled of fish and the sea. I would have dove into the water right now if it weren't for the expensive reaping gown my mother gave to me. It was a light yellow, the color of daffodils and a bow the color of the light sand that lay at the bottom of the sea. We're the only district on the coast, District 4, producer of fish and all manners of seafood. If you didn't know how to swim from birth here you had to learn fast. Everything that doesn't have to do with the Capitol has to do with the fish. And that's all you'd hear on the docks, anything and everything about a fish and it's components.
I stopped swirling my feet and allowed the bubbles to cling to my feet before I flopped back on the dock. The sky was the pale blue color of early dawn; wisps of cloud skidded overhead but not enough to cause much alarm. A light breeze ruffled my bangs and brought the tantalizing scents of the market area. Fresh bread out of the oven, the musty smell of damp cotton and linen, the somewhat displeasing scent of red meats going slightly rancid but still good enough to use, and the refreshing smell of early morning fish caught even before the sun had risen. It was all to tempting for me to resist, except the meat. I pulled my feet from their position and righted myself into a standing position. I really didn't want to leave but I couldn't sit there all day. With a new objective I paced my way, barefoot, down the dock and into the direction of the market. Well that is until I fell through the dock.
I awoke to find myself half in the water with my shins resting on the seabed, and half on the dock with my arms outstretched and a gash along my chin. It hurt, yes, but no worse than getting a fishhook in your ear. I slid my hand over to the cut only to find my hand in a small pool of blood dripping through the cracks in the boards. Head wounds always bled a lot, never figured out why though. I slid my hand away again and planted it firmly on the side of the dock. I tried to haul myself up only to find my head reeling and an overwhelming desire to throw up, which I suppressed quickly. And then a small laugh escaped from something in front of me. And a familiar something at that.
"The hunger games haven't even started yet and you're already spilling blood for District 4." I opened my eyes to find myself staring at the feet of a crouching Finnick Odair. He was nice, yet he was fawned over by every woman I knew. Maybe it was because of his bronze hair, near perfect complexion or his unnaturally sea foam green eyes. I didn't know how he could stand it. Apart from being the female idol, Finnick was last years -- The 65th -- hunger games winner. But you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he acts. He was never cocky or boastful after he won, unlike some of the past winners I've seen. And he was my best friend, the only one I have ever known as a friend. I had first met him when I was eight and I had nearly drowned after leaning too far over off of a fishing boats side, too curious and no upper body strength. He, being the amazing swimmer that he is, had jumped in the water after me. Never ended up repaying him, oh well. He stretched out one of his hands to me, "Well?" an obvious sign he was offering help. On a usual basis I wouldn't ask for help from anyone, but seeing as I was nearly about to pass out again I saw it as a good idea. I gave him my half bloodied hand which he gripped tightly as he hauled me up.
"You ever get tied of pulling me out of the water?" I asked groggily, half joking.
"Never gets old." He replied with the cheekiest smile I've ever seen him with. I gripped his hand tightly as I tried to rid my head of the dizziness, staggering my feet slightly as I did so. Once I had gotten my bearings I let go of Finnick's hand and gave myself a once over. My once light yellow dress was now a more muddy golden color with streaks of red staining the collar and the front.
"Great." I murmured, not trying to be subtle. Finnick began to walk forward, and I looked up to see where he was going. I stared at him with probably the most deer in the headlights look. "Where are you going?" I asked.
He sauntered his way back to face me in a small circle, obviously making it seem as fakery serious as possible. "Well I was going to go to the market, that was until I saw you fall, or should I say nearly vanish."
"I did not nearly vanish." I protested. "The boards just…didn't like me today, that's all"
He laughed, "You completely vanished through the floor of the dock in a flailing mass of arms and legs." He doubled over laughing. And I visibly went beet red out of embarrassment. He righted himself, "Oh come on Fesure lighten up." I turned my head away, looking at the point where I fell. The rotted and broken wood, plus the blood from my chin painted a gruesome scene. If you didn't know any better you'd think someone was killed. Finnick sighed, "Well come to the market with me and then you can be publicly executed by your mother." That's when it hit me, mothers dress once so beautiful, was now no better than the rag we use to wash our floors.
I contemplated if I should go with him or stay here until my mother comes looking for me. I thought it was better to get the blight over with than to prolong my punishment. "Alright I'll come." Finnick smiled and stood to the side of the dock. He swung his arms, over dramatically, to the side.
"Madame." He said whilst tilting his head to the ground. I struggled to suppress my laughter as I walked forward.
I slapped my hand on his head and said through bouts of laughter, "Good work Finnick, the district will be proud." Then I burst out laughing as we walked off the dock.
